


I'll be your solace

by winterysomnium



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: M/M, Nico is a good boyfriend, Will is tired and overworking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 13:34:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8403607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterysomnium/pseuds/winterysomnium
Summary: “I’m not stupid, you know. I know what you’ve been doing,” Will murmurs, nearly a kiss against Nico’s hip, and something shy tenses in Nico, a secret he wanted to have left unexposed.
 
“I just don’t know why.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on tumblr by tsubulle: for the prompt maybe Will being pissed cause Nico is shadow traveling right and left to get ppl stuff but what he doesn't know is that Nico is trading everything against stuff like "I'm gettinf u that 3DS BUT you have to stay clear from the infirmary for a month" so Will can get some rest from his medic duty ?  
> Yes, the title is a pun.

“You smell of curly fries,” says the corner of his bed, Will’s elbows dipped as he’s toying with the beads of his necklace, worn and warm, his jacket unzipped and somewhere between being worn and not and Will’s mouth looks hostile, looks like he’s hiding emotions that can’t hold up a smile, properly, and Nico closes the door, with a sigh.

  
“I’m tired,” he says, dismissive, and he is; he wants that bed, for himself, he wants it to be empty and invitingly cool and while the lingering presence of Will is something he loves to indulge in, he was falling asleep halfway to his cabin, like the shadows fed on his substance and left him emptier than he’s been before, trying to take out the living out of him, keep the ghost of him in and Nico wearily toes off his boots; Will sits up in his bed.  
  


“Using your powers continuously without proper rest does that to you,” Will tells him, as if Nico doesn’t feel it, himself, the cabin colder in seconds, the summery night withering into autumn mornings, drowsy and cold.

“Solace, I’m _tired_. I don’t want to fight right now.”  
  


“Are we fighting?”  
  


“Aren’t we?”

  
Will crosses his legs, fiddles with the hem of his cotton socks and he sounds exhausted, in his quiet, like he’s been waiting for something good, something happy, for hours and days but it’s been replaced, postponed to a year or two later and he’s too disappointed to care, to fight for it, anymore.

  
Nico’s in front of him, when Will shrugs, so much taller than two months ago and Will looks up at him, his face so guarded it makes Nico’s whole existence stutter, makes something in him ache.

  
“You should take your own advice,” Nico scolds, unbuckling his sword from his side and Will follows his fingers with a careful look, with a bare, uninvited confusion.

  
“Meaning?”

  
“Meaning you’ve been locked in the infirmary for most of the last month or so.” 

    
“I haven’t been _locked_ in there,” Will tries to defend himself, smoothing out a rumpled, ridden up side of Nico’s shirt and Nico anchors his weight, presses Will’s forehead against his shirt, low and stirring things he’s too tired to do, his fingers helplessly woven into Will’s hair and despite everything there’s a smile pressed into his skin, and unfairly, it travels, until it’s on Nico’s mouth too, small and content; Will’s here and Nico’s feeling present, too.

  
“I’m not stupid, you know. I know what you’ve been doing,” Will murmurs, nearly a kiss against Nico’s hip, and something shy tenses in Nico, a secret he wanted to have left unexposed.

  
“I just don’t know why.” Will looks up then, and he’s so beautiful Nico nearly drowns in disbelief, in the reality of this boy, this boy, who thinks so highly of him, of his ghost mind and shadow bones, this boy that so desperately wants to be wanted, too.

  
“It’s pretty obvious though,” Nico says, the skull ring hitching in Will’s hair and Will flinches, Nico mimics the motion. He had tried to twist the ring with his knuckles still lost in the labyrinths above Will’s skull, the strength uninvited and unkind, and they both know he’s nervous now, they both know he’s not content to share.

  
“Is it? Because I still don’t get why you’d smuggle in a DS3 for the Stolls just so you can get some greasy fries on the way,” Will answers and Nico barely misses twisting his ring into Will’s hair, again.

  
“It’s not _just_ for the fries. Though they are a bonus. Fast customer service and reasonable shipping prices and all that.” Nico’s smile creeps up again, for a moment or two, before Will asks: “What is it for then?” and Nico resigns to the truth, with a displeased sound.

  
“I do it so you can experience the miracle of sleeping _and_ taking a nap on the same day,” he says, and there’s a helpless defense, growing out of Will’s lashes, weighting on his brows.

  
“I sleep! And how is that even connected to you smuggling things?”

  
“I smuggle those things so the campers don’t run with every scratch and mosquito bite to you.”

  
“You…do?”

  
Nico loses an exasperated sigh.

  
“Will, just watching you use your powers every day makes _me_ feel tired, okay?” he huffs, steps away from his bed and Will’s knees, touching his, firmly, tenderly, and then plops on the blanket next to him, mostly dressed, thoroughly worn out.

  
“I can’t help it if the campers find lava-less walls boring and three legged races dull if you’re not about to die in them,” Will protests, quietly, slumping a little bit more into himself and Nico finds his fingers in the haze of his soft sheets, softer warmth. 

  
“But you’re not the _whole_ of the infirmary. They’d manage. It’s not like you’re the only Apollo kid around.”

  
“Technically, I _am_ the only Apollo kid with healing powers around.”

  
“You’re _exhausted_. You basically slept through campfire night yesterday.”

  
“Wait, campfire night was yesterday?”

  
“Case and point,” Nico says, but there’s something wrong in the way Will laughs, something off, something recollected, shattering against Will’s teeth.

  
“I… I haven’t been the best boyfriend either, have I?” Will asks him, defeated, and nothing should hurt, nothing should ache the way Nico’s insides do now. He yanks at Will’s knuckles and Will has lost gravity somewhere between the force and Nico’s hip, so dizzyingly, and he wraps one arm around Will’s shoulder, awkwardly, Will’s nose pressed to the back of his ear.

  
“I don’t know, I actually think you are more fun when you’re not conscious,” he says, with a smirk, pretends he’s not trying to make Will smile.

  
“Ha-ha, hilarious, di Angelo,” Will murmurs against his neck, forgetting a kiss on his skin and Nico tries to find a corner of the blanket he could use for comfort, for a snug, cotton hide away.

  
“I always am,” he answers and then pushes at Will’s thigh, tells him to move.   
He drags the blanket over them, up to Will’s ears, up to his own lungs, Will’s lashes fluttering against Nico’s jaw, his palms curling with the angles of Nico’s side; Nico’s barely quarter awake.

  
“Nico?” Will asks, softly, the sound reverberating through Nico’s skull and he considers to just forfeit to sleep, to answer Will hours later, he considers losing himself to his sun scented dreams, but answers with a drowsy, thick “What?” anyway.

  
“Thanks,” Will answers, smiling into Nico’s hair. “I owe you.”

  
“I accept Visa, American Express, and Happy Meal,” Nico answers, pursing his mouth in sync with the scrunch of his nose. “With the Halloween edition toys only though. If I see another yellow Minions box I will strangle someone. Leo or Percy, to be exact.”

  
Will snorts, tone coloured with pretend hurts, with faked scandals, written against his mouth. “Talking about other boys when you’re in bed with me, huh? That’s just rude.” 

    
“Oh, so you can ogle Paolo at lunch but I can’t talk about guys in my own bed?” Nico reiterates and Will groans.

  
“You will never _not_ mention Paolo, are you?”

  
“No. It’s pretty good leverage.”

  
“ _You’re_ pretty.” Will grins and Nico rolls his eyes, hides a laugh. “Be quiet, Solace. I’m teaching you the ancient art of taking a nap, so you better pay attention.”

  
“Should I take notes, too?”

  
“If it means you will stop talking, yes.”

  
“Roger that.”

  
“Now who’s talking about other guys in bed.”

  
Will snorts, a hot spot at Nico’s shirt. “I think I like you better when you’re not conscious, too,” he jokes and Nico smirks.

  
“Good. Then let me sleep,” he says, and Will can’t really argue with that.

  
Can he?


End file.
